Before It's Too Late
by Kissy Heartbreak
Summary: [Sequel to 'Look At Me'] The truth of the matter is, that even if Matthew had not regretted his choice in the end – it would not have made any difference - Because a nation does not die so simply.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Sequel to Look At Me.**

**I've been wanting to do this for a long time, honestly. It's always been in the back of my mind and, seeing all the effect that the original story had gotten, I felt it was time I actually put this into action.**

**_I Am Not Sure_ if I'll be adding to this. People can imagine what happens after this point. _If_ I get around to adding another chapter, it likely won't be any time soon. So, please just kinda keep that in mind.**

**Anyway**

**Enjoy~ c:**

* * *

The truth of the matter is, that even if Matthew had not regretted his choice in the end – it would not have made any difference.

Because a nation does not die so simply.

Not to say that they don't die at all. If a nation withers away, like Rome, for example. They will die as a result of that.

Matthew's act of suicide was not probable cause to actually dissolve and die. True, his _body_ died. However, Matthew – to a point – could not. Instead, he would be reborn. Much like Russia was, in the last days of the USSR. As far as the people of his nation knew, Canada was still Canada. A few things may be changing here and there, a few worried voices _may_ have started to be heard. As a whole, however, they were still a thriving and peaceful nation as far as they knew. Completely oblivious to that one lone man, lying dead in their woods. Oblivious to the ones crying over his loss, and the others who sensed it. Dread and panic and sadness echoed throughout the planet earth as the souls of nations whom were close to that mere boy – that barely man, so young to have been taken already – felt the life leave him. So unaware were that boys citizens, of all the possible outcomes there future could now hold. As some nations mourned, others prepared themselves – for the opportunities that await them, and the competition they were soon to face.

They cried.

They planned.

* * *

The plate shattered against the hardwood floor.

Freshly made pasta quickly slid across the spotless surface, while tomato sauce was more like blood splatter as it hit walls as white as snow.

There was a deafening silence for moments afterwards, everyone was struck still in their shock. All eyes but one's had moved to the same place, the same person. The only person in the room who was not aware of their surroundings.

"B-Bi_rd_–" was all Gilbert managed to choke out before his knees crashed into the splintered porcelain.

Ludwig was there instantly, by his side, hold tight on his brothers shoulders to try and keep him grounded.

And then Gilbert was screaming.

* * *

Footfalls were rushed and the heavy breath pushing out of her lungs was as panicked as her glossy eyes. She had to find him, she had to make sure he was okay. Worry was etched into her usually vibrant features as she looked over the rainbowed fields for spiky blond hair. As soon as she had him in her sights, she rushed for him. Ignoring the flowers being crushed under her feet.

His hands were buried deep into the fertile soil, bright red tulips crushed between his shaking fingers. Tears splashed over the dirt on his skin, muddying them one spot at a time. He stared at the bright red petals and tried _so hard_ not to cry aloud, but he couldn't stop himself. Not as his sister wrapped her arms around him, not as he looked at that poor broken flower in his hand.

The saviour of Holland was dead.

Matthew was dead.

* * *

The room was destroyed. Broken glass littering the floor, papers, books, various other items scattered around with the rest of it. Hot, bright sunlight came in through streaks from the half torn shutters on the window – giving the dark room little light. In the silence, you could hear children laughing outside.

Almost unable to be seen, in the furthest back corner of the demolition, was a dark hunched figure. His hands were bloody from broken glass, pieces that still clung to the small picture frame dug into his thumbs as he held tightly to it. In the picture was a gruff looking man with a bright smile, his dark brown hair was tied back in dreadlocks and he most definitely needed to shave down his beard a bit. His bear-like arm was slung around a younger man, who's skin glowed in comparison to his own darker tone. Blond hair looked like captured sunlight falling around his peaceful features, even then, it couldn't outshine the soft smile touching his face.

There was a drop of Cuba's blood now, on that face.

* * *

The wind was harsh and cutting like a razors edge. Snow swirled around and whipped against the sturdy walls of the grand estate, trying to fight their way into the warmth of the near empty house.

A fire cracked and cackled brightly, it's heat scathing and sinister to the hard violets that stared into it's depths. To anyone else, everything was quiet – almost peaceful – in the large, empty building. To _him_, however, it was horribly loud. The **snap** of the flame, the Roar of the wind, th of the windows, the _splash_ of the alcohol as he brought the bottle to his lips. Not once did the cold hard edge in his eyes waver, not once did his sadness find its way to his surface.

But the sadness was there.

Like a hollow rot in his chest.

"Matvey. You fool."

* * *

Matthew Williams was not dead.

But for those who knew him, he might as well have been.

Matthew would live – reborn to his country as a _new_ man, with _new_ eyes. All those many years of living, growing, learning, would still be in the back of his mind, but they would no longer belong to _him_. Because that Matthew died in a forest, surrounded by the one's who loved him most. That Matthew's eyes were now void of life and the bright peacefulness that made him unique to himself. He was gone, everyone understood this.

That was why Arthur shook despite not being cold.

That was why Francis legs gave out beneath him as he tried to stand strong.

That was why Alfred **refused** to let go. Even when both Francis and Arthur knew it was time they had to.

That was why they cried.

And as the blood disappeared and Matthew started to fade, Alfred's screams for his only brother turned frantic. Francis turned away and ran, like he could simply escape all of this if he just pushed hard enough.

Arthur stood and watched, taking in every last moment until there was nothing but snow surrounding them. He watched on as Kumajiro's sorrow washed away, watched as the small bear started to walk down some invisible path that only he could see.

Matthew was reborn, Kumajiro was going to his new master.

And Arthur followed him.


	2. Chapter 2

Soft violets opened slowly.

A lone tear slid down a pale face.

He was Matthew Williams.

And he pitied himself.

The thick grey clouds over head were the first thing within his vision, fluffy and full of snow and such a depressingly dull shade. It was a small comfort to know such a sight was not the very last thing his former self had seen. No, Matthew had seen pain and sorrow and guilt, but most of all, he had seen love. Matthew now wondered why he had such trouble seeing it before, but the question was quickly answered. For all of their love, they could not remember him long enough to make him feel it. How could one love you, if they could barely even remember who you were? So, there love was just a lie. Something they told themselves they felt, so when things such as this happened, they could act appropriately.

'_That isn't right'_ A voice echoed in the back of his head.

"Oh, but it is." He said, almost bitterly, back to it.

The protest of his former self was insistent, but he quickly banished it from his conscious thoughts. He was not the same Matthew, and he would not listen to such weakness again. Matthew had made mistakes. Mistakes that had caused him to be overlooked and forgotten, stepped on and brushed aside. He was spineless and soft and that was what had brought him to his death.

"Who?"

"Canada." The response was almost instinctive, Matthew scowled slightly and looked at the bear "You had better start remembering that, Kumajiro."

Kuma's ears turned back in an almost hurt way. It was easy to see the small mammal felt a bit betrayed, but that wasn't going to weigh on this Matthew's conscious. Instead, he sat up and looked himself over. Naked as a new born – which he supposed he was – sitting in the snow. Wonderful. It's a good thing he wasn't just a human.

"Matthew." came a familiar voice.

With a look up, clear violets met bright greens. Arthur stood a mere ten feet away, his expression a mixture of sadness and joy. Matthew thought he really looked about ready to cry, honestly.

For a moment, they simply stared at one another.

"… Can I have your coat? Possibly?" Matthew held out his hand.

Arthur seemed to start at this, quickly coming to his senses and moving towards his former ward. "R-Right, yes, of course you can, my boy. How rude of me not to offer it, you must be freezing!"

As Arthur handed over his coat, he took in everything he could about this new young man, now standing in front of him. The first thing to catch his attention was his height. No longer did Matthew tower over himself, like his brother did. They were almost the same height. Matthew was also thinner, a bit more scraggly, and all around more boyish looking than the man Arthur had grown accustomed to seeing – he's sure his coat wouldn't have fit his old Matthew. It seems that the north nation had been reborn a few years younger that what he had been. Which was not a surprise, really. Russia had been much the same, after his rebirth. The second thing Arthur noticed was the way Matthew held himself, strangely more confident, but he supposed dying and coming back might just do that to a man. Lastly, he noticed Matthew's eyes.

No longer were they the soft and gentle, peaceful eyes that they used to be.

They were clear and sharp and calculating now.

Out of everything, it was his eyes that gave it away.

The world was in for a change.

"Alright, so Alfred's house is much closer than mine. Lets go there, eh?" Matthew's stare was expectant now, were it used to be questioning.

Arthur stared a moment longer, before slowly nodding. "Yes, of course. I imagine Alfred hasn't left that spot , so I need to gather him along the way."

"Then let's go get him."

* * *

Alfred hadn't moved.

His legs had long since gone numb with cold and his face was bitten with frozen tears, but he didn't want to move. He didn't want to leave this place, not without his brother leaving with him. Not without his Mattie by his side. Every moment of their lives together played over and over again in his mind. Every stolen smile, every moment of laughter, every tight embrace. The only one in the world that ever accepted Alfred for who he was, despite all his faults. The only one who ever knew every bit of who he is – and now they're gone. His Matthew was gone, and it was all his fault. How could he have been so ignorant of all the pain he was putting his brother through. How could he have been arrogant enough to think that Matthew would never go away. He had taken his brother for granted all of their lives, and now it was too late to ever say those things he should have said, every single day.

"I'm sorry, Matt…" His voice cracked, hoarse from his crying "Please, come back. I love you so mu– _Plea_–"

And here he thought, he couldn't possibly shed another tear.

When the tears had once again stopped, the sobbing once again quieted, Alfred looked on, once again at the crushed snow that used to hold his brothers body. A glint of something caught the southern nations eye, almost completely buried in the snow. He stared at it in a daze for a few moments, still lost in his grief, when a moment of familiarity caught him. He didn't know why his heart leapt, or why his hand shook with hesitance when he reached for it, but as soon as he had the item firmly grasped in his hands, he couldn't stop the weak laughter that escaped him. Carefully, he brushed the snow off of the clear surface of the lenses, gentle with them, like they might suddenly break.

Matthew's glasses.

Why were they still here? Everyone knew that Alfred's glasses were Texas, but Matthew had never said were his belonged to. For a small moment, he wondered if Texas would stay behind, if he ever faded. That thought wasn't important now, however, because Alfred had his Matthew's glasses. This last little piece of his brother, for him to hold onto. It brought a sad sort of smile to his face, because at least he had this. Tucking the spectacles into his breast pocket, just over his heart, made him feel a little less broken. Something so small would _never_ make a real difference to this tragedy, for Matthew was still gone, but it was like a bad aid, he supposed.

"Alfred." Came Arthur's call.

He hadn't even heard him coming, not that he was all that surprised, considering his thoughts. When he looked up however, the last thing Alfred expected to see was Matthew walking beside the British Isle in nothing but Arthur's coat. For a moment, he thought he might be imagining it, but Arthur turned to Matthew as well, as if to show that, no, he was not suddenly going mad. Alfred realized what was going on, this was the new Matthew Williams. The new personification of Canada, and as they looked into one another's eyes, and Matthew's gaze was not warm, Alfred knew this was not the brother he grew up with.

But he couldn't help it.

"Mattie…" He could feel the tears, once again falling down his face. They were neither for sorrow or joy this time, the feelings of loss all muddled together with the image of his brother before him. He could barely manage a weak smile. It wasn't his Matthew, it was so obvious as they stared at each other. There was no connection, no thread attached to one another's soul. It had been cut. Severed as violently as Matthew's life.

And still, Alfred stood up on shaky legs. He walked over to this new life as every fiber of him screamed to stay by that dent in the snow. He pulled this Matthew into a tight embrace that was not returned and cried into his shoulder with all the sorrow that was filling up his heart.

Because Matthew was gone.

_His_ brother. _His_ Matthew.

Was dead.

* * *

**AN: Welp, everyone wanted a chapter two - so here's your chapter two.**

**I hope you've enjoyed~ **


End file.
